


Bros

by thirdtimecharmed



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Brotherhood, Fights, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdtimecharmed/pseuds/thirdtimecharmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Bro come home from a walk in the park, and meet up with some trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bros

     His shades glinted in the sun. In fact, both of their shades glinted in the sun, creating a veritable sparklefuck disco party. They had spent a rare day at the park, on of the few times where the heat wasn’t smothering everyone in the city half to death. He wondered if it was time for a rooftop battle; it would be Dave’s first, but you can’t start too early.

     Speculatively, he looked down at the boy toddling beside him. Dave clung persistently to his hand- two fingers actually, his hand was too small otherwise. Bro smirked; the kid would never forgive him for letting him embarrass himself this way. Still ,for now he was too damn young get that displays of affection were fucking unmanly. The fucking temper tantrums he’d put up with lately would make Satan himself quake in his shiny evil boots.

     Today, however, had been pretty chill. Dave, ninja senses already developing the little fucker, looked up as he sensed Bro’s gaze. He smiled up questioningly, and Bro chuckled.

     “have fun today little dude?”

     Dave nodded emphatically, his shades sliding down his nose a bit.

    Bro raised an eyebrow sternly. “i know you can talk bro”

     “yes i had fun” Dave intoned, sticking his tongue out playfully.

     “sweet. no shit from other kids?”

     “nothing!” he parroted, “striders dont take shit.” His shades dipped further down. Bro reached to push them back up, and Dave bit his lip.

     “lesson number one, little bro. don’t slip on the irony.”

     “okay i wont” he assured him, pushing his glasses farther into the bridge of his nose.

     “sick” was Bro’s only reply as he  glanced around. The sun was sinking below the horizon, darkness was creeping through the streets, and the could only go as fast as Dave could toddle. He was notoriously adamant about doing things on his own, and Bro grimaced at the thought of another bout of childish fury.

            “hey dude,” he said, “there are snails zipping by over there how about i carry you?”

            He furrowed his eyebrows as stubborn toddler spirit fought a lingering shameful fear of the dark.

            “if you have to” he conceded with a tone of sarcasm that made Bro proud. Chuckling, he scooped Dave up and set him on his shoulder.

            “will cal be there when we get home” he asked, bouncing as his brother hurried home.

            “no man the ass ran off to start a puppet show of his own, left us like a deadbeat dad,” he answered, scanning the deserted storefronts that lined the street.

            Dave laughed, and Bro turned to grin at the only three year old on the planet with a competent grip on sarcasm. His grin froze to an icy mask as he sensed something on the periphery, but before he could turn, Dave had a question.

            The little runt usually had some dipshit inquiry to make. Last time it was ‘explain irony’ and how the fuck was he supposed to explain that? This question was even harder to answer.

            “do i have a mom” he asked, his tone the same nonchalant one Bro himself used all the time- the tone that could mean anything.

            “why do you ask man?” he wanted to know, “were other kids giving you shit for it?”

            “no... but they all have one.”

            Dave’s childish grip on apathy wasn’t strong enough. His voice grew plaintive, “am i too cool for one or something”

            Bro wanted nothing more than to lie and tell Dave some bull shit story about a stork or a car accident, but he knew better. If this kid was going to be any excuse for a Strider, he was going to need to learn to juggle the truth along with the four thousand other chainsaws that’d get chucked into his life. Before he could even begin to explain the meteor and the horse that had landed him with a child to take care of, more drunken slurs drifted through the air.

            Normally, they wouldn’t even register with him. His apartment was in a shitty part of town- he knew it, Dave knew it, hell everyone he knew knew it. Drunk people were hardly a new addition to the Strider parade of ironic dipshittery.

            Aggressive raging hulk man assholes, however, were. Mr. Tankasaurus was taking well more than half of the sidewalk out of commission and staring straight at them. Bro saw it coming.

            “yo dave,” he said casually.

            “yeah”

            “im gonna put you down right there. if you budge a fucking inch, i will track you down and beat you half to death twice, your grandkids’ll feel that shit.”

            “okay” Dave said, in a tone that clearly said Bro had been a little harsh.

            He sighed, plunking Dave down in the doorway of some Chinese place. Turning to face the barely sentient boulder standing in his way, he found time to hope the fight wouldn’t take too long. It was getting to be Dave’s bedtime.

            “‘Sup asshole,” he slurred, the alcohol in his breath so apparent that Dave could probably smell it.

            “you gonna move?” Bro asked tersely.

            “Don’t think I wanna,” he answered, grinning, “I’m pretty comfortable right. About. Here.”

            “yeah why am i not surprised,” was his only response, “look assfuck i don’t know if you noticed but there’s a goddamn three year old kid about ten feet away either you can move, or i can beat the tar out of you until you cant move anymore.”

            The drunk roared with laughter.

            “Who’d have thought a midget like you would end up with any kinda kid to look after. What’d you do, knock up your girl and get stuck with child support?”

            “you’ve got five seconds to start running. i suggest you use them,” Bro’s tone was cordial, almost conversational as he glanced at his watch. He ticked off each second on his hand, ending with a clenched fist as the second hand hit zero.

            “What now, kid?” he asked, seeming almost amused.

            Bro removed his shades, tucking them neatly in his front pocket, and met the man’s eyes for the first time. In his booze addled, blurred vision, the red eyes seemed to spit fury in the darkness, and for the first time, he took clumsy steps in retreat.

            He smirked, “too late for that now man, gotta face the music,” and sprung.

            It wasn’t a fair fight. No fight involving Bro ever was, but he was lucky he ever knew what hit him. As Bro landed a hit on his nose, he would swing at the spot where anyone would have sworn Bro was hitting him mere seconds earlier. As he leapt in circles around the would-be assailant, Bro laughed triumphantly. Blow followed blow, and as he got in a few more for good measure, the man sunk to the ground, moaning.

            With a satisfied clap of his hands, he wiped them on his shirt and donned his shades once more. Dave watched him, wide eyed behind his own shades, as he approached and scooped him up again.

            “you have blood on your shirt” he told his older brother.

            “yeah well thing is it isn’t mine,” Bro chuckled, “that’s rule number two. if it’s gotta be blood, make sure you aren’t the one doing the bleeding.”

            All Dave could do was nod.

            “he was bigger than you”

            “well i was better than him.”

            “how do you know”

            Bro rolled his eyes. “seriously kid? he was a total douchebag, and drunker than an irishman”

            “ive heard people call you a douchebag”

            “no see you’ve heard angry chicks call me a douchebag, there’s a difference”

            He laughed as Dave nodded, pretending he understood the adult world that Bro tossed at his feet. “you’ll get it someday man,” he promised, ruffling the kid’s hair.

            “i dont think i want to if itll get me called a douchebag”

            “don’t get hung up on that shit kid, the wory’ll kill ya,” he informed Dave, chuckling as he sidestepped the hulking unconscious figure, letting it fade into the growing darkness. “and hey”

            “hey what”

            “about your mom dude, i probably oughta explain that shit to you.”

            “no” Dave said suddenly, his calm demeanor startling Bro.

            “hell thought you wanted to know dude way to fuck me over i had this whole story set up in my head.”

            “sorry” he shrugged, “but i dont think i need a mom”

            “what, have you found some synthetic robot lady or am i supposed to get married?”

            Dave sighed and hit Bro’s head, not nearly hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough so that the message was clear. “okay, okay, i’m listening i promise.”

            “dont interrupt anymore then” he insisted.

            “fine you choosy little fucker, why don’t you need a mom?”

            “cause i think youre cooler than a mom would be” he answered, shrugging.

            “thanks for the ringing recommendation little dude, i’m flattered,” Bro laughed, doing an admirable job of hiding his shock. Sure, he tried to keep the kid in line but he was hardly a replacement for a fucking mother. No need to let Dave know anything had changed, though, he wasn’t about to start handing the kid weapons now.

            “yeah well dont look for anything better” Dave scoffed, pressing his lips together as he

tried to dissect the sarcasm in Bro’s answer and coming up with nothing definitive.

            Bro laughed and rolled his eyes, shrugging Dave off his shoulder to give the kid a one armed hug, “wouldn’t dream of it dude.”

            -

            Moments like those made a good closing remembrance. He was glad, he reflected, that he had managed to share at least some touching memories, so he had something to think about. Briefly, he tried to remember if he had gotten to rule number ten. They were all scattered through Dave’s life, little meaningless moments with a lesson in irony, or how to deal with girls tossed in for good measure.

            But rule number ten was the most important, and his eyebrows furrowed as his vision began to fade. Jack had stabbed him, he was bleeding out and all he could hope for now was that someone would remember to tell Dave that bros always look out for each other. 


End file.
